


Trial by Fire

by prairiecrow



Series: Terra Incognita [13]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), Knight Rider (1982), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Asgard, Bravery, Established Relationship, F/M, Fire, Loss of Powers, M/M, Self-Sacrifice, betrothal
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-09-29
Updated: 2013-09-29
Packaged: 2017-12-27 23:19:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 966
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/984837
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prairiecrow/pseuds/prairiecrow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Who in all the Nine Realms would dare to launch an attack in the heart of Asgard, in a time of peace — on the day, in fact, when Prince Thor is celebrating his betrothal to Jane Foster of Midgard, and the greatest heroes of both Realms are in attendance to toast his health and sing the praises of his future bride? Thor has no idea, but he knows this: his own powers are gone, Mjolnir is dead in his hand, the Hall of Ancients is ablaze, civilians are trapped within, and KITT (confined to his current humanoid vessel) can't be left to rescue them alone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Trial by Fire

Mjolnir lay like a dead thing in his right hand, as lifeless as the body of his beloved Mother draped over his left arm — no, far worse, for at least his Mother breathed, a throaty groan escaping her as he pushed his way through the thin acrid smoke that billowed across the courtyard beneath an evening sky already awash with stars, struggling not to cough as its bitterness curled white-hot in his lungs. He, Thor the Adamant and the Unyielding, affected by so little a thing! — and yet it remained, and when he broke free into clearer air and set her down gently on a handy padded bench he did choke a little on the word: "Mother —!"

"I…" The moan trailed off into a fit of hacking coughs, and he supported her shoulders until she'd ridden it through, his anxious gaze fixed on her pale face, which was smudged with the same dark dust that befouled her bare arms and elaborate green gown. "Your Father —!"

"— is leading our warriors," he assured her, "to seek and engage the enemy, whoever they might be."

She nodded, her eyes drifting closed and her head tipping back; he lowered her fully onto the bench, his heart at ease concerning this much at least — he had seen enough people in extremis and dying to know when someone was deathly wounded, and every instinct told him that his Mother was shaken but fundamentally uninjured. Already courtiers were coming running to attend her, which freed him to rise to his feet and turn his attention to the rest of the scene around him —

— and it was grim enough: hordes of people in festive dress stumbling to safety from the burning Hall of Ancients, staggering alone or dragging each other in bedraggled pairs, choking and reeling in their disbelief and their shock. For who in all the Nine Realms would dare to launch an attack in the heart of Asgard, in a time of peace — on the day, in fact, when Prince Thor was celebrating his betrothal to Jane Foster of Midgard, and the greatest heroes of both Realms were in attendance to toast his health and sing the praises of his future bride? 

And where were those heroes now? Here came Steve through the smoke, clad in white-flashed blue and carrying one of the eldest Esteemed Priestesses in his arms; Kitt Silver followed close behind with each arm wrapped around a coughing young noblewoman of the House of Tervan, his slender artificial body clothed in black and burgundy, his steely-eyed composure unaffected by the choking clouds that surrounded him; Clint and Natasha in purple and ebony were already fanning out to right and left up the treed slopes that surrounded the courtyard, no doubt to better estimate the extent of the conflict; Bruce was nowhere to be seen, but through the groaning and the roar of the fire Thor could hear a distant bellow, and guessed that the clever scientist was now playing his own violent part in Odin All-Father's plan of attack.

Most importantly, Jane was safe: he could plainly see her less than ten yards away, being swiftly guided and supported by a red-and-gold clad Tony Stark. The sight struck him to the heart, for she was indeed so utterly beautiful, her dark hair intricately woven and her slender throat so graceful even as she glanced back over one bare shoulder in her fear, even with her golden gown besmirched and bloodied at the hem. 

He tore his gaze away to sweep what he could see of the courtyard, and although his most powerful weapon was dead in his hand he was not bereft of the skills garnered in thirteen centuries of warfare: he could estimate large numbers at a glance, and there were too few here for the vast number who had filled the Hall with laughter and joy. As if to reward his perceptiveness, a scream tore through the night from within the burning interior of the Hall, and Kitt, who had just let go of the noblewomen and started toward Tony, checked mid-stride and turned his head sharply — 

— and half a second later his whole body followed.

"Kitt!" Tony, his left arm still protectively encircling Jane, reached out sharply with his right.

Kitt paused barely long enough to spare a narrow glance for his mate. "There are still people in there!" he declared, and then he was running at full speed, faster than a Midgardian of flesh and blood. Within two seconds he was a blur amidst the smoke-clouds, a shadow swiftly disappearing into the glow of the main entrance. 

 _"Kitt!"_ Tony abandoned Jane, starting to run himself — only to be intercepted by Steve, minus the Esteemed Priestess. Hands capable of bending iron bars closed on Tony's shoulders, which didn't stop him from yelling at the top of his lungs: "You can't transfer — if you get caught in there — _Kitt, damn you, come back!_ "

Thor could feel Jane's eyes upon him, wide and frightened — and knowing already what he was going to do. What she didn't know was that his powers had been stripped from him, and that was a mercy, for if she had realized that he was now merely as other men she would have done her level best to stop him…

No, not "merely" as other men, for he was the bearer of Mjolnir and even if the Hammer's power was lost to him, still he must prove himself worthy of wielding it.

In truth, could he do any less?

He drew a deep breath, wrapped his crimson cloak around him as some protection from the flames, and plunged back into the Hall as if the inferno within had no power to sear his lungs and bake the flesh from his bones.

[TO BE CONTINUED]


End file.
